MAGNA CHARTA INTRODUCED: SLIGHT DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED IN OVERCOMING
AN UNPOPULAR AND UNREASONABLE PREJUDICE.
Philip called the miserable monarch
to account for the death of Arthur, and, as a result,
John lost his French possessions. Hence the weak
and wicked son of Henry Plantagenet, since called
Lackland, ceased to be a tax-payer in France, and
proved to a curious world that a court fool in his
household was superfluous.
John now became mixed up in a fracas
with the Roman pontiff, who would have been justified
in giving him a Roman punch. Why he did not, no
Roman knows.
On the death of the Archbishop of
Canterbury in 1205, Stephen Langton was elected to
the place, with a good salary and use of the rectory.
John refused to confirm the appointment, whereat Innocent
III., the pontiff, closed the churches and declared
a general lock-out. People were denied Christian
burial in 1208, and John was excommunicated in 1209.
Philip united with the Pope, and together
they raised the temperature for John so that he yielded
to the Roman pontiff, and in 1213 agreed to pay him
a comfortable tribute. The French king attempted
to conquer England, but was defeated in a great naval
battle in the harbor of Damme. Philip afterwards
admitted that the English were not conquered by a
Damme site; but the Pope absolved him for two dollars.
It was now decided by the royal subjects
that John should be still further restrained, as he
had disgraced his nation and soiled his ermine.
So the barons raised an army, took London, and at Runnymede,
June 15, 1215, compelled John to sign the famous Magna
Charta, giving his subjects many additional rights
to the use of the climate, and so forth, which they
had not known before.
Among other things the right of trial
by his peers was granted to the freeman; and so, out
of the mental and moral chaos and general strabismus
of royal justice, everlasting truth and human rights
arose.
Scarcely was the ink dry on Magna
Charta, and hardly had the king returned his tongue
to its place after signing the instrument, when he
began to organize an army of foreign soldiers, with
which he laid waste with fire and sword the better
part of “Merrie Englande.”
But the barons called on Philip, the
general salaried Peacemaker Plenipotentiary, who sent
his son Louis with an army to overtake John and punish
him severely. The king was overtaken by the tide
and lost all his luggage, treasure, hat-box, dress-suit
case, return ticket, annual address, shoot-guns, stab-knives,
rolling stock, and catapults, together with a fine
flock of battering-rams.
This loss brought on a fever, of which
he died, in 1216 A.D., after eighteen years of reign
and wind.
A good execrator could here pause
a few weeks and do well.
History holds but few such characters
as John, who was not successful even in crime.
He may be regarded roughly as the royal poultice who
brought matters to a head in England, and who, by means
of his treachery, cowardice, and phenomenal villany,
acted as a counter-irritant upon the malarial surface
of the body politic.
After the death of John, the Earl
of Pembroke, who was Marshal of England, caused Henry,
the nine-year-old son of the late king, to be promptly
crowned.
Pembroke was chosen protector, and
so served till 1219, when he died, and was succeeded
by Hubert de Burgh. Louis, with the French forces,
had been defeated and driven back home, so peace followed.
Henry III. was a weak king, as is
too well known, but was kind. He behaved well
enough till about 1231, when he began to ill-treat
de Burgh.
He became subservient to the French
element and his wife’s relatives from Provence
(pronounced Provongs). He imported officials
by the score, and Eleanor’s family never released
their hold upon the public teat night or day.
They would cry bitterly if deprived of same even for
a moment. This was about the year 1236.
Besides this, and feeling that more
hot water was necessary to keep up a ruddy glow, the
king was held tightly beneath the thumb of the Pope.
Thus Italy claimed and secured the fat official positions
in the church. The pontiff gave Henry the crown
of Sicily with a C.O.D. on it, which Henry could not
raise without the assistance of Parliament. Parliament
did not like this, and the barons called upon him one
evening with concealed brass knuckles and things,
and compelled him to once more comply with the regulations
of Magna Charta, which promise he rigidly adhered
to until the committee had turned the first corner
outside the royal lawn.
Possessing peculiar gifts as a versatile
liar and boneless coward, and being entirely free
from the milk of human kindness or bowels of compassion,
his remains were eagerly sought after and yearned for
by scientists long before he decided to abandon them.
Again, in 1258, he was required to
submit to the requests of the barons; but they required
too much this time, and a civil war followed.
Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester,
at the head of the rebellious barons, won a victory
over the king in 1264, and took the monarch and his
son Edward prisoners.
Leicester now ruled the kingdom, and
not only called an extra session of Parliament, but
in 1265 admitted representatives of the towns and
boroughs, thereby instituting the House of Commons,
where self-made men might sit on the small of the
back with their hats on and cry “Hear!
Hear!”
The House of Commons is regarded as
the bulwark of civil and political liberty, and when
under good police regulations is still a great boon.
Prince Edward escaped from jail and
organized an army, which in 1265 defeated the rebels,
and Leicester and his son were slain. The wicked
soldiery wreaked their vengeance upon the body of the
fallen man, for they took great pride in their prowess
as wreakers; but in the hearts of the people Leicester
was regarded as a martyr to their cause.
Henry III. was now securely seated
once more upon his rather restless throne, and as
Edward had been a good boy for some time, his father
gave him permission to visit the Holy Land, in 1270,
with Louis of France, who also wished to go to Jerusalem
and take advantage of the low Jewish clothing market.
In 1272 Henry died, during the absence of his son,
after fifty-six years of vacillation and timidity.
He was the kind of king who would sit up half of the
night trying to decide which boot to pull off first,
and then, with a deep-drawn sigh, go to bed with them
on.
Edward, surnamed “Longshanks,”
having collected many antiques, and cut up a few also,
returned and took charge of the throne. He found
England prosperous and the Normans and Saxons now
thoroughly united and homogeneous. Edward did
not hurry home as some would have done, but sent word
to have his father’s funeral made as cheery as
possible, and remained over a year in Italy and France.
He was crowned in 1274. In a short time, however,
he had trouble with the Welsh, and in 1282, in battle,
the Welsh prince became somehow entangled with his
own name so that he tripped and fell, and before he
could recover his feet was slain.
Wales having been annexed to the crown,
Edward’s son was vested with its government,
and the heir-apparent has ever since been called the
Prince of Wales. It is a good position, but becomes
irksome after fifty or sixty years, it is said.